In the Wake of Tragedy
by futilelives
Summary: Events spiral out of the cocoon of acquiesce that has been spun for Harry following the violent altercation of the basilisk and the phoenix.  His life makes an about turn- literally.
1. Desperation

Disclaimer: Obviously my writing has gathered international acclaim. Really, no, I don't own the series _Harry Potter_ or the things that you recognize. However, this plot is mine except where inspired by the amazing authoress _Toki Mirage_ and her stories. I would like to give her credit and I do very much wish that _Bloody Skies_ is not winding down. And… apologies for my rambling.

A.N. This deviates near the end of the second book, _The Chambers of Secrets_, and events spiral out of the cocoon of acquiesce that has been spun for Harry following the violent altercation of the basilisk and the phoenix.

**In the Wake of Tragedy**

Chapter 1- Desperation

0o0

Slowly, curling apart like a striking serpent, anger unfolds as horror rise.

"You can't _do_ this!" He- _she_- screams, he- _she_ now, _gods, why does this happen to him?_- rails at the injustice of the world, at that fucking bastard of a wizard.

_Dumbledore_. Always with the "Greater good" and his life-wreaking plans, never mind the minor _creatures_ huddling before him as he carefully steps on them, destroying their lives, shattering their dreams, dictating their every _fucking action_-

With an inarticulate wail of anguish, Harry jerks forwards and sweeps his- _her, can't forget that now_- hands across that bastard's desk and reaches for his- her- magic. _BurnTearDestory every single thing of his; howdarehedothistohim? _

The magic flows out of his body and obeys him, too quickly, too fast, too uncontrolled and it obeys before turning back on him- _her_-, sending wild streaks of fire down his spine and he- _she_- blacks out.

0o0

Harry moans as he wakes, throbbing pain sometimes spiking and groggy eyes fluttering open and taking with rapid movements, his surroundings in. He was in the… medical wing? What had happened?

"Harry."

He turns slightly and looks at the headmaster, "professor?" Harry frowns at his raspy voice.

"Harry." Dumbledore repeats, for once looking his age. The energy that he is so well known for seems to have disappeared and it throws his features into harsh relief. There are heavy wrinkles etched in his forehead and a slump to his strong shoulders. And almost sorrow in his voice, "I am sorry."

"For what?" Bemused affection littered his words and the child tries to give the powerful wizard a smile with energy that he does not have.

But, if anything, the elder's spirits droops further, guilt and regret plaguing him. "You cannot stay in this school… I am truly sorry." Hesitantly he continues. "Go to the goblins; they will help you."

_You cannot stay… cannot stay…_ these words haunt him, tickling his mind. They had to do with those lost memories because he could not remember anything after Dobby, but then, there are patches missing even before that, before dragging Ginny to Ron and the Phoenix bringing them up and… and... something. "What do you mean?" "Why don't I remember anything?" A hint of panic wriggles its way through him before it was washed away. Somewhere behind the fog that clouds his mind, suspicion forms, why is he not reacting to anything right now?

Dull emerald eyes took in the uncharacteristically subdued man before him, the solemn blue eyes and the frowning lips and a sneaking feeling of dread creeps up, somehow, Harry knows instinctively that nothing was going to be the same after what had apparently happened.

With an obvious struggle, Headmaster Dumbledore composes himself, "You were going into shock Ms. Potter. If it had been any longer, your magic channels would have been compromised. As it is, your wand disintegrated in the attack. We had to feed you a series of potions including one whose affects involved a slower integration of memory. Do not worry; they will come to you in time."

Harry feels sort of numb, blank as the Headmaster leaves. And _Ms. Potter_? He is a not-quite healthy male twelve year old thank you very much. Or at least, he was the last time he checked which was as early as Dobby and just before the loss of memories and _no_, how long has it been?

He has no idea how long it has been between the Headmaster leaving and Madame Pomfrey bustling in, delivering him a shock that quickly disappeared. "Ms. Potter! What are you doing lying down? All the students have left and are getting ready to return home!" She moved about hectically muttering admonishments beneath her breath while dragging this and that off the shelves and thrusting them in a trunk that oddly looks like his.

Harry blinked as he was manhandled into a new black robe that was without any distinctions. "Here is your trunk; I've taken the liberty to add the potions that you should be taking in it. Remember, one a day for the next week dear. Your body is still recovering and these should help it."

"Recovering? What happened?"

The medic clucked her tongue and looked at him pityingly. "We had to sedate you because you were attacking everything and everyone in sight, including yourself. I am not quite sure what happened but the Headmaster said that the shock of finding yourself a female was too much for you to handle."

_A female_? The thought runs through his- her?- head as he was pushed towards the exit and then gently lead to the awaiting train.

0o0

To go or not to go.

Ron and Hermione are right there, behind this door and arguing again. All she has to do is walk in and explain and everything will go back to normal.

Fogged eyes took in this oddly domestic scene. There are a couple of stray books, four stacked in a tidy pile at Hermione's feet and the fifth held in a loose grasp, open a third of the way in and so clearly abandoned by its owner. And typical Ron still had a couple crumbs from the last meal littering his robe.

"Get out of my way." A familiar voice drawled behind her and startled, she whirled around to face him.

"Oh!" A surprised exclamation lights up his face as Draco's eyes widen. Harry looks at him oddly when her rival- is he still her rival if he doesn't know who she is? - seems speechless. Was there something wrong with her appearance? Recovering quickly, though still oddly fixed on her, he greets her. "I haven't seen you around before. Are you a new student?"

Harry raised an eyebrow, and with some disbelieve at his civil attitude opens her mouth to answer only to be interrupted when the door that she had been looking at for quite some time slams open.

"Malfoy! A-"  
"Ah, the Mudblood and the Weasel. Where is Potter? Has he finally realized what the right sort is?"

"Don't you dare say that Malfoy!"

Harry suddenly felt weary, so tired of these petty arguments and the general immaturity of the students and so quietly slipped away.

0o0

Harry sat alone in a compartment trying futilely to tame her hair. He, _she_, cannot think about what this means yet, this change of gender and all that implies. _She_ knows that she will quietly breakdown and begin analyzing when she is in her little room in that house.

It will be like before the Wizarding world again. Before this madness and back to when she can rely only on herself. Back to when hysterics before others and shown emotions meant taunting and more pain.

But not now, not when she cannot even _remember_ what happened.

So she turns her mind to frivolous things and… apparently now even after her gender change, her hair refuses to cooperate! It is currently a furious mess that tumbles down her back and pools in her lap- the ends sticking every which way and pricking her hand- they were like soft needles. She could not stop touching it or yanking it with frustration, a visible representation of what had changed in her and it was with a sort of morbid, self-destructive fascination that she keep imagining what her remaining blood family would do to her when she gets back to number four Privet Drive.

The trains toots, the announcement declaring the nearness of the station ends, and Harry is left frantically going through her trunk trying to find something Muggle to wear, obviously she doesn't have anything but the school clothes underneath the unassuming robe which technically could be counted as a fancy coat could work… she rolled her eyes and laughed at herself. Why hadn't she thought of that last year? It wouldn't matter anyways, people always gave her weird looks, Dudley's clothing which was not in the trunk attracted them. Perhaps the House elves thought that they were scraps?

She was amusing herself with thoughts of Dudley being used as a cleaning cloth, albeit, a very heavyset one when the last announcement came on. Harry quickly stuffed everything back into the trunk before the train could arrive at the station and attention caught by the potions, grabbed one to take before leaving the train. The empty vial clinked as it was thrust back into the trunk and Harry surged forward, trunk in one hand and the other reaching outwards to open the door.

It was when she was resting on her trunk against the wall of the station that Harry realized something was wrong. The fog that was in her mind in the medical wing before was back and the little sparks of emotions that grew more prominent as the train ride continued was gone.

Harry was never stupid or particularly clumsy or forgetful. To be those things often meant sharp pains of hunger and dark, cluttered nights and if she was especially unlucky, freezing porches and burning days spent outside without food.

Polished business shoes clanked in front of her.

"You" It was said with choking anxiety and when Harry looked up, she saw that Vernon's face is quickly on its way to exploding. "Get in the car and hurry up," the silent 'boy' that should have been tacked on to the sentence hung like the gallows between them.

Still feeling oddly acquiescent, she obediently treads after him.

Hard eyes shifted to the rearview mirror, "Petunia will take you shopping tomorrow to deal with this… freakish _change_. You will thank her and appreciate what we have done for you, you ungrateful brat!"

"Yes Uncle Vernon." Harry would have been genuinely surprised at the Dursley's off behavior if she could feel anything but compliance that is.

"Uncle Vernon, I am still injured from school and Madame Pomfrey requested that I continue to take some medicine that is in my trunk, may I keep that please?"

A heavy pause. And then a yes that looked physically painful to say was gritted out between clench teeth.

0o0

Harry lifted a slim pale finger, tracing it along the edge of the bathroom mirror. Aunt Petunia had pushed her into it immediately upon stepping in her house, which was odd because usually she would be locked up inside her room.

She couldn't recognize the person in it.

As a male, he knew that he could never amount to anything more than passable- certainly not Tom Riddle level at all. Harry was gawky and awkward with knobby knees- far too thin for a boy, too slim, never any muscles.

But this _girl_ before her couldn't be her. This _girl_ is beautiful with luminous emerald orbs and an almost tame jet mane framing high cheekbones. She was enchanting is a way that was otherworldly. _Otherworldly_… it sent a strum of _something_ through her. This was before Ginny, one of those oddly placed missing patches. There was someone else there besides the two of them in that chamber.

There is something missing Harry realized with a start. She just couldn't place a finger on it. Something almost integral to her body, part of her identity. _The Scar!_ It was gone! This final piece of information raked itself over her brain and with a low keen of pain, she collapsed, memories slamming the cage that they were kept in open.

0o0

Memories swam through her, teasing with little bits of information.

_"We don't know what this will do to you Harry." The thrice damned twinkle in his eyes were gone and he was now an overbearing thing._

_"The Phoenix tears, Basilisk poison and the Diary's 'blood' are all potent items- each alone are capable of changing the soul. I am regretful to tell you that you cannot return to the school next year or at least until you have mastered these things."_

_"Professor!" She had protested, "I feel fine if not a little tired. We can even explain the gender change as a side effect of a potion accident!" _

_He had sighed then, exhausted. What right did he have to be exhausted? She thought heatedly. "I am not going to lie to you, it is impossible that you remain unchanged by them. The Phoenix is calm, light, rarely angry but devastating when finally riled. It was one of these creatures that destroyed Atlantis. The Basilisk is quick to anger and could be just as powerful as a phoenix but its anger is easily assuaged- like all cold-blooded reptiles. They are opposites, Phoenix are light, the King of Birds; Basilisk are dark, the Queen of Serpents. They despise each other and yet, your body is not being torn apart by them."_

_"This means that you have accepted them. I do not know which you will turn out to be like but both do not bode well for the students."_

_"Before this change you have shown both these characteristics and your parents were not the kind figures that the Wizarding world has painted them to be. Lily was forgiving but only to a certain extent and she carries a grudge as long as memory itself. James… James was her direct opposite but he was petty and cruel sometimes."_

The memory fluttered away and another wisp stretched before her.

_"I won't hurt them Headmaster!"_

_"You cannot promise such a thing. Children are foolish as this year have proven. Perhaps some adults are just as foolish, they will rile you up and no matter how mature you act, I cannot prediction your actions."_

_"You said that I was more mature! I won't! I promise, please don't, can't leave Hogwarts, it's the only place I have every felt at home in! Please, I'll do anything!"_

A sigh and then another.

_"You do not have the scar anymore if you notice."_

_"That doesn't mean anything!"_

_There was a weary pause and an internal struggle that Dumbledore has obviously lost. "There was a prophecy before you were born. Two children candidates to defeat the Dark Lord. The scar was supposed to mark you as one and this is why your parents were targeted. I sent you to your remaining blood relative because that would activate your mother's protection."_

_"I have made many mistakes in my life Harry and I have tried so hard to fix them. You are perhaps my greatest regret after young Tom Riddle." A mournful gap. "Your scar faded, you are not the prophecy child anymore and I cannot risk the threat you would provide to the students. It is always about the Greater Good… I am sorry, whether you believe that or not Harry."_

_And then fury, fireworks of pain and a dearth of magic._

Numbness, sorrow, throbbing anger at her memories strike her as she woke with a gasp, jerking to sit up on the bed. For the first time since she was old enough to realize that she can only rely on herself, she cried.

0o0

They went through that store like a whirlwind grabbing the cheapest thing off the racks and then almost racing to the counter.

"Aunt Petunia, I am not going back to the School." Harry spoke carefully, she still wasn't sure about most of what had happen or what she will do after this but this she was sure of. Not even if Dumbledore begged her.

Petunia turned her head around and eyes her niece. Then she turns abruptly around again and drags Harry off the line and to the fitting room, throwing the clothing after her. "Here. Get the things that fit you." The words were brisk and tense and completely at odds with her new actions.

0o0

I will not demand any reviews because authors who do that annoy me but review are very appreciated! Please tell me what I can do to improve my writing and any mistakes that I may have had- I am not all that familiar with British customs so information about that will be wonderful as well.


	2. The Goblin

Disclaimer: So… is it possible for a middle class teen to amass a couple billion dollars in a month, without a job?

A.N. This deviates near the end of the second book, _The Chambers of Secrets_. Events spiral out of the cocoon of acquiesce that has been spun for Harry following the violent altercation of the basilisk and the phoenix.

**In the Wake of Tragedy**

Chapter 2- The Goblins

Harry eyes the vial with its beautifully mesmerizing blue liquid, so unlike the other potions. She dimly wonders if she should continue taking the potions or if she should destroy them. In the constant haze that seems to fall over her these days, her thoughts were never clear enough for her to _think_.

But she cannot risk her health anyway and downs it.

There are only 2 more potions anyways and what is the worst that can happen?

"The breakfast is not going to cook itself!" Aunt Petunia screeches at her the second she walks into the kitchen, "and don't forget the garden!" Other murmured insults slide off her and even when the topic of her parents is brought up, Harry feels nothing as she begins her morning chores.

0o0

Vernon glances at the boy-girl working on the garden uneasily. He had spent the past 11 years degrading the child and breeding perfect obedience into him. Nevertheless, there were always times where the child would become furious at some of his commands and snipped back, opening an opportunity for punishment. It was a form of stress reliever for him, knowing that they were housing an extra unnatural child that could be the ruin of them one day.

Nowadays the boy-girl didn't even react to anything! It's freakish.

0o0

Okay. It has been more than a week since the last of the potions and Harry was thinking a little clearer.

She can't go back to school obviously. It has only been two years since Muggle School so while she could catch up, Harry really does not want to find out if the Brutus School for Delinquents or whatever lie her relatives came up with is real. Besides, it is almost the end of July and she even lacks the proper paperwork to exist in this world now. So, what to do?

Unbidden, Dumbledore's words came to mind. _Go to the Goblins_, he had said.

Harry mused as she turns the thought over in her head.

That could work. She hates living with Vernon and Petunia and there is enough gold in her parent's vault that she can strike out on her own, at least until she finds a job. Harry always wanted to go travelling in those times she was dumped at Ms. Figg's house while her 'family' took a trip.

All she has to do is somehow get there now. She can ask Vernon to drop her there before work…

"Aunt Petunia?"

"What." This word was snarled with all the hatred Petunia can gather.

Err… maybe when she is in a better mood. "What would you like for dinner?"

Petunia gave her niece an odd look, a cross between disbelieving and suspicion.

"Ah. Never mind Aunt Petunia." Harry's heart thudded with anxiety as she watched Petunia glare at her before finally walking away. Maybe she should wait until after everyone leaves for school. Nah. Harry would just have to get there sometime during this summer since she only has school robes or Muggle clothing and both would definitely raise questions if she was seen after Hogwarts start.

"Let's see… Shepherds Pie, Spiced Beef, Bubble and Squeak, and Yorkshire for dessert. That should put them in a relatively good mood."

Harry whistled as she took a couple of pounds from the drawer by the kitchen and left to go buy groceries.

"Hello, I've never seen you around before."

"I'm new ma'am; the Dursleys offered to house me for a little while before I leave." Harry did a little curtsy; hey, she might as well be well like this time and if buttering people up seemed to do that then why shouldn't she?

"Good people, the Dursleys, very charitable. Where is that ungrateful orphan that was living with them before?"

_Merlin, these people are nosey, _she thought with exasperation, "I am not sure ma'am. He probably got into a fight too many; I have not seen him since I arrived."

"Of course, he's a real troublemaker; a nice girl like you should stay away from him."

"Of course ma'am."

"And what are you doing?" By now that nosey neighbor was walking alongside her and Harry felt like slamming her head on a wall, _just kill me now_.

Instead, she raised the groceries and answered. "I am cooking dinner for the Dursleys as a way to repay them for their excellent hospitality."

"That's wonderful dear, and how are they?" the sentence was uttered with the singled minded determination of a true gossip.

With a mental sigh, Harry resigned herself to this torture and it took her until the doorsteps of the Dursleys to rid this insane beast.

0o0

Dinner was over and everyone, even Vernon seems pretty content. Probably a promotion in work for that greedy pig. "Uncle Vernon, can you drive me to London tomorrow?"

Immediately he began blustering and Harry hurriedly cut him off "I will be out of your hair for a couple days and I will even get back by myself! I just wanted to see if I can cut ties with that freakish world."

And of course, at hearing this, he agreed, still blustering. Typical.

The next morning, when the sky was not-quite bright and still very early, she was kicked out of bed and snarled at by a blearily eyed aunt to cook breakfast.

The second that that was done, Harry rushed to her room and grabbed her trunk, snagged a piece of toast and headed to the car.

For what must have been hours, Harry sat in the car listening to Uncle Vernon's sloppily veiled threats before they finally arrived.

Harry crept into the Leaky Cauldron, anxiously awaiting anyone that may even recognize her and when no cries came, she relaxed.

After a brief conversation with Tom, she got settled in her rented room and left to go to the goblins.

Right. Her wand was destroyed. Harry ignored the pang of sorrow and waited for someone to come along that could open the entrance for her.

_Yeesh._ That windbag was disgustingly mean. Why would it matter that she was supposed to go straight home if she did not have a wand? Harry fumed as she waited on line to talk to one of the tellers.

"Hello sir. May I speak to someone in charge of my bank vault?" Harry inclined her head respectfully, she _is_ depending on the goblins to help her after all.

The goblin in duty stared at her, before giving a bloodthirsty smile, or not, Harry was not sure which since those knife-like teeth seems to make everything more malicious, "Key? Name?"

Harry blinked, _keys?_ "Err. I never received any keys" and leaning closer to the goblin to avoid being overheard, "my name is Harry Potter and I sort of… had a little accident."

After that, she was quickly rushed through a side room and plopped in front of a lavish office. Ragnok, the card on his rather large and gnarled desk stated. "Give me your hand" He said gruffly, "I hardly have all day here."

Harry sucked in a shocked breath as Ragnok swiped a knife across her palm and forced it on the opulent desk in one fluid movement. She said nothing as he peered at the results of the spidery crimson lines creeping away from her palm. He made a grudgingly accepting grunt, "as I am to understand, you did not receive your vault's key Mistress Potter; a new one will be created and the old one destroyed… unless that is not what you are here about?"

Harry yanked her hand back, gathered her shaken courage and spoke. "Can I see my finances and what is the process for being emancipated?"

Ragnok looked at her dismissively, "that is not my job. Ask for your account caretaker, Griphook. Here." He gave her a thin bundle of parchment as he ushered her out. "Your lineage papers, they will burn the second you leave Gringotts."

And so she was left standing just outside of the room clutching in a bloody hand a couple of wonderfully absorbent parchment.

Great.

Of course it took the next hour to locate Griphook and be escorted to him.

"What is it you want, Mistress Potter?" The goblin scowled. This _thing_ is just like any other wizard drowning in their ocean of arrogance. How dare the witch ignore a summon from Gringotts and then march in here asking for help?

"I would like to see the state of my finances, inquire about the process for being emancipated, and the technicalities of changing my name and getting Muggle papers to certify my existence as," here she gestured to her body, "there have been a couple of significant changes, Mr. Griphook."

"Of course. Which part of the documents are you uncertain about?"

"Documents? I never received any."

A disbelieving pause.

"Under my predecessor, who is currently the overlord of a fourth of the accounts, including the Potter accounts, Gringotts issued statements semi-annually since your entrance into the Wizarding Realm at eleven. Your guardian's withdrawals for the Hogwarts tuition required your blood signature, which was given."

"That is impossible. I have only been here once and then in either Hogwarts or the Muggle realm since I turned eleven. And I have never received anything."

Griphook blinked and then, "are you sure?"

"Positive."

"How did this come about Mistress Potter?" Griphook felt bewildered by the child's situation- never in the two centuries that he had been alive had this happened- and, caught off guard, he was softer than he had meant to be.

Harry eyed the goblin with a distrustful look. "Promise me that you will never tell anyone of what I will say… and that you will do your best to help me."

"I cannot promise you anything, but my honor requires me to do my duty." Griphook said stiffly.

A suspicious "right" escaped Harry's lips.

They were are an impasse, neither Griphook, bound by his allegiance to the Goblin Nation, nor Harry, with her trust shattered by those around her, could offer anything before their demands were met.

Harry broke first, feeling as if she had lost a valuable bargaining chip as she brought the topic back to something safer, "so… how can I be emancipated?"

Griphook gathered himself and began professionally. "While the process is usually difficult, your parents' deaths simplify it. We sent you a summon nearly a fortnight ago when their will, which was not carried out upon their death, was unsealed by the Ministry. "If you will follow me, we will enter the antechamber where such processes are carried out."

With a quiet rustle of her new clothing, Harry followed the diminutive being to a simple cavern further down the tunnels of the bank. There, she watched as the goblin entered a side chamber and came back with a large scroll bound by a black ribbon. Griphook broke the ribbon and then the wax sealing the scroll and reverently laid it in the center of the room on the stone slab.

The stone slowly lit up, runes glowing golden as a list of names flared into life above it. _Master Harry James Potter. Mister Sirius Orion, formally of Black. Mister Remus John Lupin._

"These are the main beneficiaries of their will," Griphook whispered, loathed to break this ancient magic happening before their eyes. "And later the less important names will come after it before the actual Will, which will happen a day afterwards so that the magic can gather the people."

Harry, awed by this experience, only nodded as the golden words faded and a new set of names began inscribing themselves into the silence.

_Lord Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Lord Severus Tobias Snape. Lord Aberforth Percival Dumbledore. Lady Amelia Susan Bones. Lord Edgar Samton Bones. Lord and Lady Amos Diggory. Lord Arthur Weasley. Lady Molly Weasley nee Prewett… _

There must have been hundreds of names as the silver light continued etching out each letter.

_... Lady Alice Longbottom. Lady Augusta Longbottom. _

When the last glittering letter faded away, Harry turned to Griphook. "Why were there so many names? I do not even recognize most of them."

"The seconds receive a stipend for attending. Though they may be a minor beneficiary, it is mostly likely that their place is to watch and make sure that the contents of the wills are carried out. It is from a time where nothing and no one can be trusted."

"Oh… now what do I do?"

Griphook looked up at the girl. "We will reconvene tomorrow with as many beneficiaries that can attend the Will, but now we will see about your naming." With a decisive about turn, the goblin caretaker marched back to his office with Harry trotting behind him.

"Now, you do not want your naming happening before your emancipation since you cannot make your own will as a minor… How old are you?"

"Tonight, tomorrow, will be my thirteen birthday."

"I see. Mistress Potter, what name will you go by?"

Harry hesitated; she had not thought this far yet, which in retrospect was stupid. "What would you suggest?"

Griphook blinked, a naming is a precious thing and to be invited to rename someone is an honor. "A name is power. Why do you want me to give you a name?"

"I don't know what to pick… and anything that I do will lead the Wizarding World to me eventually. I can only think about familiar people and if there is a sense of logic to my new name, I know that they will realize it."

A sense of dawning sorrow came over the young goblin. The witch's mannerism and words painted a grim picture of herself and that riled him. The young were protected in the Goblin Nation, especially since they were so hard to come by to the long lived species.

"Goblins are named after their parents' dreams," Griphook offered, "We go through different naming ceremonies every century afterwards depending on our desires." "Perhaps you should take some time to decide this."

Harry uttered a surprised exclamation- she did not know that. "But still, what would you suggest?"

"A renaming is based on the participants' past and their hopes for the future. If you want me to suggest something, I have to be familiar with you."

"Ah…" Harry's suspicious eyes were fixed on Griphook, "I see." The ensuing awkward silence stiffed the pair and Harry made to leave rather than suffer through the tense atmosphere.

As she rose from her chair, Griphook opened his mouth and warned her. Why, he did not know; maybe it is out of some obscure sense of duty to this orphaned child. "Mistress Potter… thirteen is a traditionally powerful number… it would behoove you to be wary tonight."

"Oh." Harry felt numb, then surprised and mistrustful. "Why are you doing this- being so nice? I don't have anything to give you."

Griphook did not say anything but merely looked at her until she turned to leave.

At the door, Harry hesitated; who would understand the world more that the very creatures who control its life's blood- money? "Mr. Griphook… is there a way for me to turn back into a boy? To become what I was before? Even something… like a permanent Polyjuice?"

The goblin with his heart heavy in his gut pitied her, this tragic boy turned girl who, by the stories that was leaked about her life, should have been dead long ago. And so, when he spoke, it was in a soft pitying voice. "No. No mortal methods can undo what was done. There are no potions that can permanently change the form… or the past." _Which I suspect is your true intention._


End file.
